


the boy with the broken halo (that's me)

by voodoochild



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Cousin Incest, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Infidelity, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7000180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael goes after what Arthur and his gun lessons have been hinting at. (Takes place after that scene in 3.03, no real spoilers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the boy with the broken halo (that's me)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **thatyourefuse** , for the prompt "sex in a nonstandard location because the standard locations are off limits".
> 
> Title from the Black Keys' "Sinister Kid", which will always be #1 on my Michael Gray playlist.

"Do _not_ repeat this to your mother, all right?"

Michael nearly chokes on the last of the whiskey, because his oldest cousin is on his knees in Michael's second-oldest cousin's barn, and Arthur thinks he's going to tell Mum about *this*?

Pomade-slick hair under his fingers as Arthur gets Michael's trousers open, and Michael groans "why the fuck d'you think I'd tell her about this?"

"Because she's Polly and no one can lie to her and get away with it, so just don't give her reason to ask, all right?"

Arthur's fist closes around Michael's cock as he talks, too-dry slide of his palm. And Michael's done this, already, with the boys, sitting around the barn or the fields or the garage after payday with whiskey and darkness providing cover. Watched John and Arthur and Finn and Isiah wank off, maybe lent a hand if there's been enough whiskey or cocaine involved.

"Fuck's sake, Arthur," Michael hisses, because they've still got to mind the servants. "You think I'm gonna tell her you dragged me in here 'cause shooting guns makes you hard? That you begged to suck my cock?"

"The hell I begged-"

Michael cuffs him, directs Arthur's chin to his stiff, waiting prick. "'Lemme do it,'" he parrots, and Arthur closes his mouth around Michael's cock. "That's what you fucking whinged at me to do while we were putting the guns away. 'It's been a week, I need it, let me suck you'. Jesus, you're a bitch for it."

Arthur doesn't answer, his mouth's too occupied, but he licks slick and wet at the crown of Michael's cock, and Michael bites down on the cuff of his coat to keep from shouting. Fucks into Arthur's mouth deeper, and Arthur, as ever, takes it. A hell of a shock, last year, when Tommy'd been off in New York and Arthur'd married Linda, but had slunk into the Watery Lane house one night when Michael was working. Arthur had smelled of spunk and cheap beer, had two lines of coke too many to hold his tongue, and Michael had been *fascinated* to learn of Arthur's regular goings-on with the rent boys of Birmingham.

Had backed Arthur against the counting-cage, gotten his prick out and wanked him off right there in the shop. Hadn't wanted anything himself, that time - Michael still thinks of sex as something he doesn't need, only something he does to get what he wants - but now he'd gotten leverage on Arthur. Let his mad-dog cousin win barfights and follow at Tommy's heels, Michael has his hand on a second leash.

Now, Arthur sucks him with total abandon and relish, his hands huge on Michael's hips, pinning him against the stall door. Michael's head tips back, enjoying the slide of his cock against Arthur's tongue, his fingers still closing around the remembered heat and weight of the gun. He could have pulled the trigger, he _knows_ he could have. Just didn't, because Tommy would have his head, and because he still has use for his cousins. 

"Yeah," he groans, when Arthur swallows around him, throat tightening, better than just about every tart his cousins had thrown at him to "make him a man". "Fuck, Arthur, like that. You're so fucking good at this."

Arthur's hands tighten on Michael's hips, reminding him to be quiet, and he bites down on his cuff again. His cock feels ready to burst; he'd been hard as nails since the shooting lesson, between the gun and Arthur's voice. He grabs for Arthur's hair, pushing his head down, and Arthur moans as loud as he dares. Loves being pushed about, for all his bellowing.

"You gonna swallow it when I come?" Michael asks, watching Arthur shake, fight the urge to throw him. He likes pushing Arthur like this, when he's guaranteed to win. "You'd - *ah* - fucking well better. Can't - mmm - leave a mess for them to find."

The suction builds, harder and tighter until Michael's whining into his coat sleeve, fucking his hips fast and hard. He thinks to warn Arthur only a second before he comes, but his cousin swallows it all, and leaves Michael gasping and tucking himself back into his trousers. Michael tightens his hand on the back of Arthur's neck, the way Tommy does, the way that's a substitute for them for something like this, and Arthur bows his head. Doesn't move while Michael locks the storage container they keep the ammunition in, and ducks out of the back door of the barn.

Arthur will wait for a bit, he knows. Drink a bit more whiskey, try and pretend he isn't screaming to come just from sucking off Michael. Probably go wank in the woods. Michael doesn't care.

He's a boss. He calls the shots, and he comes first.


End file.
